


Red, White and Blue are My Favorite Colors

by CR Noble (erudite12)



Category: Avengers, MCU, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Language, PTSD flashbacks, PTSD nightmares, PTSD stuff, Rewrite, Series, graphic depictions of minor character death, graphic depictions of violent nightmares and memories, memories of death, reader insert rewrite
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-05
Updated: 2017-06-20
Packaged: 2018-08-13 05:12:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7963786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/erudite12/pseuds/CR%20Noble
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Summary: Nothing about your life was that special. You waited tables and struggled to pay your bills. Then one day an American Icon crashes into your apartment window.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a reader insert rewrite of I Bleed Red, White and Blue because I kind of accidentally abandoned the series because I got hardcore into SPN fanfic and I want to pick it back up, but I needed to find the muse again.

You looked up from your work and blinked repeatedly, trying to get your eyes to focus again. You brushed back a few curls that had wormed their way out of your French braid and wiped a forearm across your sweat and grease smeared face, wishing for the hundredth time that you could afford to pay a mechanic to do all the damned work on your truck.

It wasn’t that you didn’t know how to do it yourself, but it seemed like every time you tried to do something more intricate than an oil change, you found more problems with the damned thing. In this particular case, a simple tune-up had turned into a complete engine overhaul.

_Stupid truck_ , you thought, _wish I wasn’t so god damned broke. I’d get a new car and never have to do this shit ever again._ Deep down, you didn’t mean it. No matter how many busted knuckles and headaches it had given you, you adored the ’88 Ford Ranger, and you enjoyed doing all the work necessary to keep it on the road. Somehow, no matter how many problems you came across with it and what kind of work you had to do on it, it never stopped running. You sighed and leaned forward to tighten down one final bolt before calling it a night. You put all of your tools away, switched off the battery powered spotlight hanging from the inside of the bonnet, and pulled it down before closing the lid.

  
You took the stairs two at a time all the way up to your third floor apartment, heading directly to the shower. You spent the better part of an hour scrubbing the grease off of your skin and out from under your fingernails while you sang quietly to yourself. You were just pulling on a pair of plush Tinkerbell pajama pants when you heard a crash, the shattering of glass, and a loud thud coming from your living room. _What the hell?_

__  
You quickly pulled your t-shirt down over her head and ran out toward the racket. When you saw what had made the sound, your jaw sagged and you stopped in your tracks, nearly collapsing.  
  


_What in holy hell is Captain fucking America doing laying on my coffee table?_ You thought to yourself, unable to speak. Your eyes darted around the room to the broken apartment window, the papers that were now being blown off of your desk, and back to your coffee table, which was now in pieces under a stunned Steve Rogers.

  
Captain America shook himself and sat up, looking around. When his gaze fell upon you, he scrambled to stand up among the debris. You stared at him with the oddest combination of awe, disbelief, and fear. He was about to speak when you opened your mouth.  
  


“You broke my coffee table,” you said, shakily. You couldn’t believe that stupid sentence had actually come from your mouth. There you were, staring Captain America in the face, and you couldn’t think of anything better to say.  
  


“I apologize for that ma’am,” he said, guilt lacing his voice. “I’m Steve…”  
  


“Rogers. You are Steve Rogers.”  
  


“Right. Listen, I am so sorry. This is all Tony’s fault, I’ll make sure he pays for all the damage.”  
  


“Tony? As in Tony Stark?” You were having a hard time wrapping your head around all of this. As if on cue, a man shaped red and gold object jetted through your window and landed on the floor next to Steve. You just stared at them, mouth agape. You paced over to the couch. “This is not actually happening, right? I mean, no. There is no way in hell that Captain America and fucking Iron Man are standing in my living room. I must have fallen asleep in the shower again. And this is just the weirdest dream ever.”  
  


Steve furrowed his eyebrows and glanced over at Tony.

“If only,” Tony said. “But this is absolutely, one hundred percent really actually happening right now. JARVIS, I need to buy this building.”  
  
 _What the fuck is going on?_ You sank down to the couch, a little stunned. The two men were talking, but you weren’t listening to the conversation. Your brain was still trying to catch up to the situation. You didn’t notice it when the men went silent and looked at you expectantly. You looked down at the coffee table. Well, if this is a dream, no harm, no foul, right? You would just roll with it. It’s what John would have done in your shoes. Looking at the shattered coffee table and the thought of John made you emotional, and irritable.   
  


Steve walked over to you, removing his mask and dropping to one knee.

“Ma’am, are you alright?” You just glared at him.  
  


“Am I alright?” you laughed. “Just fucking peachy. And I swear I will slap you stupid if you call me ma’am one more god damned time.” He winced visibly and you continued to glare into his eyes. You had seen pictures of Steve Rogers basically everywhere, but seeing him up close and in person was kind of mind-blowing. He had the bluest eyes she had ever seen. They were so blue, you actually couldn’t think of any words to describe them.  
  


“Well, what should I be calling you, then?” He smiled brilliantly, and he was so sincere that you found some of your irritation slipping away.  
  


“Y/N. My name is Y/F/N Y/L/N.”

Tony clomped over to the two of you, his mask retracting to show his face. “Hate to break up your little party here, but we have other things to do, Cap,”he said.

You looked at him, anger flaring again. Tony Stark, you could definitely be angry at him, the pompous ass.   
  


“So, what am I supposed to do know? You two have destroyed half of my apartment, and you just buy the damned building like its no big fucking deal and leave? What the fuck, Stark?” You stood up while you were talking, anger compelling you to scream directly in his face.

Steve glanced over his shoulder at Tony, whose eyebrows were raised almost into his hairline.  
  


“Calm down,” Tony said, as nonchalant as always. “I only bought the building so they wouldn’t sue me. I will replace everything that has been damaged.”  
  


“Oh, yeah? So what am I supposed to do in the meantime? Just hang out in the apartment that has a giant hole in the side of it?”  
  


“Why don’t you come stay with us at Avengers tower?” Steve offered, standing up. When Tony turned to glare at him, he continued, “I mean, it’s the least we can do considering all of this is our fault. And it will take a little time to fix everything.”

Tony mumbled something under his breath about it not taking that much time, but under the dual glares of you and Steve, he raised his hands in surrender.  
“Fine,” he agreed. “Let’s go.”  
  


“Just give me a few minutes to pack a bag,” you said, deciding you were definitely going to roll with it. Only a crazy person would refuse an offer like that. You pulled a large duffel bag out of your closet and started tossing clothes into it. When you got to your t-shirts, you wished you owned something that didn’t scream nerd. All you ended up with, though, were Doctor Who, Supernatural, and Harry Potter shirts. You sighed, shrugging your shoulders and tossed them into the bag. The very last thing you grabbed was the picture frame from your bedside table. You brushed a thumb across the tiny faces before tucking it carefully into your bag.   
  


“Okay, let’s go,” you said, heading for your apartment door. “One of you is going to have to ride with me, since I don’t have a clue where I am going.” You kept walking, grabbing your laptop, a stack of notebooks, and your keys. You didn’t look back to see which of them was following you down the stairs as you left your apartment behind.


	2. Chapter 2

             You weren’t really sure exactly what you had expected from the Avengers tower, but the giant cloud you were using for a bed wasn’t it. The king size bed should have been the most comfortable thing you had ever slept in, after all you always dreamed of owning a bed like this. Instead, you tossed and turned and couldn’t find a comfortable position to sleep in. The bed was too damned soft. As you lay there, you thought about how you ended up here.

              Steve rode over to the tower in your truck, politely giving you directions on the way. The two of you carried on pleasant small talk, but neither of you offered anything more substantial. Upon your arrival at the tower, Tony directed you to a small garage, separate from his much larger one, that looked like it was mostly used as a workshop because, as he had put it, “that hunk of rusted out scrap metal is getting nowhere near my beautiful babies.”

             You were floored by the tower when you walked in. You wouldn’t describe it as opulent, but it was still an awe inspiring display of wealth. The massive halls and modern décor were stunning. Especially for someone who could barely make the rent on a shitty one bedroom flat in the Bronx.

              Always the gentleman, Steve had insisted on carrying your bag and escorting you to the room you were staying in. It reminded you of the huge, expensive hotel suites always saw in the movies.

              Now you lay in an oversized, too soft bed unable to sleep. Sighing, you sat up and decided to explore the tower a bit. The floor your room was on seemed to consist entirely of empty suites like yours. At the end of the hall, an open lobby area to the left held the elevator and a door straight ahead led to the stairwell. You opted for the stairs.

              You traveled the tower, slowly exploring each floor along the way. There were so many different rooms, it was mind boggling. There was a huge gym with a full mile long track and every piece of exercise equipment that existed on one floor. You were certain you would visit this floor again. Another contained a large game room that looked like a damned mall arcade, and a room that looked like a large ballet studio. A few floors up you discovered several expansive rooms that looked like laboratories, scientific and engineering equipment everywhere. In one such lab, you saw Tony passed out with one hand holding a coffee mug and his face pressed into the glass table in front of him. You sighed, feeling a bit jealous of the man who could apparently sleep in any condition. All you wanted was to find somewhere more comfortable to sleep.

              You continued your upward trek and after who knows how long, you came across a floor with several identical rooms, each with cots lining the walls. The rooms were set up like a small barracks, and you walked into one of them, thinking that you would probably be more comfortable on one of those cots. As you stepped in, you saw Steve sitting on the cot furthest from the door with his back against the wall and a book in his hand. He looked up and smiled when he heard your footsteps.

              “Y/N,” he said, letting the book rest on his thigh. “What are you doing all the way up here?”

              “I’m sorry to bother you. I didn’t realize there was anyone in here,” you said, taking a backward step toward the door. Steve just waved off your apology and gestured for you to come in. “I couldn’t sleep. I was tossing and turning because the bed in my room is way too soft. So, I decided to poke around a bit and see if I could find somewhere more comfortable to sleep.”

              “I know exactly what you mean about the beds,” he nodded knowingly. “That’s why I sleep in here. You are more than welcome to grab a cot.”

              “Thanks,” you said, sitting down on the cot farthest from Steve. “What are you reading?”

              “The Hunger Games,” he said. “Nat said I should read it.”

              “I don’t know who Nat is, but they were correct. It’s a great series.” You yawned involuntarily.

              “I’ll just finish the chapter and then I’ll turn out the light, if you don’t mind.”

              “Far be it from me to come between a man and his book.” Steve chuckled at this and went back to reading as you laid in the cot, asleep long before the chapter was over.

* * *

              _You was terrified. You heard a blaring horn, screeching tires, and shattering glass. There was a mind numbing, searing pain in your left side._

_And the screams._

_The screams came from everywhere. Your screams, the screams of a little boy and an even littler girl._

_The screams were deafening._

* * *

               “Y/N!” Steve shouted, as he tried to shake you awake. You screamed and thrashed in your sleep. He shook you again, but still you did not wake. He shouted your name and shook as forcefully as he dared. Your eyes burst open and immediately filled with tears. You sobbed. Steve drew you into his chest and held you tightly as you wept. He had seen nightmares like this before. Hell, he’d had nightmares like this before. They were always about the war.

              You sobbed into Steve’s chest until no more tears would come. You didn’t want to, but his arms were so comforting and you had no strength to push him away.  As you slowly stopped crying and your breathing became more level, Steve released you so you could sit back.

              “Are you okay, Y/N?”

              “Yeah,” you replied, putting on your bravest face while wiping the remnants of the tears off of your face. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you. I should have stayed in my room. It was just a bad dream.”

              “Do you want to talk about it?”

              “Nope. Pretty sure that is right at the top of the list of shit that I definitely do not want to do.”

              “Okay. Well, you know where to find me if you change our mind,” he said gently. The concern on his face was so sincere that you couldn’t stand to look at it.

              “Really, I’m fine,” you said. “I’m gonna go back to sleep now.” Steve nodded and you rolled over to face the wall, knowing that you wouldn’t be getting anymore sleep that night.


	3. Chapter 3

You could hear Steve moving around the room, but you feigned sleep until you were sure he had gone. You didn’t get enough sleep to be prepared to deflect if he asked about the nightmare you had last night, and you sure as hell didn’t get enough sleep to talk about it. When all was quiet, you rolled off of the cot and made your way back down to your suite. You threw on a pair of leggings and a loose tank top before heading to that gym you spotted the night before. The weirdness of suddenly being a guest in Avengers Tower and the lack of sleep were not, you decided, excuses to miss a workout.

The gym was blissfully vacant when you arrived and you went about setting up the equipment you needed for your usual circuit. The mindless activity of exercise was exactly what you needed to let your mind recover from the images that still haunted you. You hopped on a treadmill for your cardio warm up once your neat rows of warm up and heavy weights was set up to your satisfaction. The soft thrumming of the treadmill was calming and you focused on the workout.

You were about halfway through your warm up and doing light weight chest presses when you heard footsteps. You cursed silently, lamenting the fact that you had forgotten to bring your iPod as you looked toward the door. ill was calming and you focused on the workout.

You were about halfway through your warm up and doing light weight chest presses when you heard footsteps. You cursed silently, lamenting the fact that you had forgotten to bring your iPod as you looked toward the door. Your gaze was met by a short but very well built man with close-cropped brown hair.

“Who are you?” he asked. Apparently Stark hadn’t bothered to tell anyone of your presence. How typical. He obviously didn’t give much thought to anyone but himself. You were still fuming about the damage to your apartment.

“Good morning to you, too,” you snarked, turning your attention back to your warm up and mentally trying to place the man’s familiar face. You felt him watching you and sighed. “I’m Y/m. I’ll be staying here for a while because Steve and Stark destroyed my apartment.” The man had the decency not to question you further, but from the corner of your eye you caught his raised eyebrow as he glanced at your barbell.

“That’s a lot of weight for someone your size,” he said.

You smirked as you completed your final rep and set the weight against the bench’s bar catcher. If you were going to have to share the gym with someone, you may as well entertain yourself. “What, sixty pounds?” you asked as you sat up and looked at him. “That’s just my warm up weight.” The look on his face told you he didn’t believe you. He had obviously never seen women lift weights. “Who are you anyway?”

“Uh, Clint Barton.” His eyebrow was raised again and he looked at you like you should have already known the answer. “Better known to the public as Hawkeye?” That’s where you recognized his face from.

“Okay,” you smiled as you stood to move on to your next exercise, “it was nice to meet you, birdbrain, but I’d really like to get to my actual workout now.” You giggled internally as his jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “If that’s okay with you, of course.”

Clint just nodded and went about setting up his own workout while you got back to yours. You were a few reps into your heavy chest press when you noticed he was staring at you again.

“See something you like?” You asked. You grimaced as you pushed the weight bar away from your body. You had added more weight than originally planned because you thought it would be fun to show off. Not that you couldn’t handle it, but you would definitely regret it later.

“That’s pretty impressive,” he said as he took in the amount of weight you were lifting. “Need a spotter?”

“Nope,” you answered between reps, “not for anything less than 210.” When he continued gawking at you, you winked and said, “You should see me on leg days.”

* * *

You felt worlds better after a hot shower, which hadn’t been easy to take considering you didn’t know how to work the showers in this place. You were wandering around the tower and happened upon a common room, where Steve and Stark sat in deep conversation with a third man that you had yet to meet. He had his back to you so all you could see was broad shoulders in a white collared shirt and a mess of brown curls.

“What’s a broad gotta do to get a cup of coffee around here?” you asked with a pointed look at the steaming mug in Tony’s hand. Steve looked up at you and smiled. Tony got up and went over to a counter that held a coffee pot and several mugs, mumbling something snarky under his breath. You didn’t care what he said, you took the cup from him gratefully when he held it out to you. You sat in a cozy armchair and took a sip.

“Tony said something about having a guest in the tower,” the curly haired man said. He looked amused as he leaned toward you and extended his hand, which you took easily. “I’m Bruce.”

“I know who you are, Dr. Banner. Nuclear physics and Biochemistry aren’t really my thing, but word on the street is that you are a certifiable genius.”

“Thank you,” Dr. Banner replied, flushing ever so slightly. “How was your first night here?”

“Uneventful,” you said, subconsciously glancing over at Steve, “my name is Y/N, by the way. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Dr. Banner’s brow furrowed momentarily. “Aren’t you a doctor, too? I know I’ve seen your name in academic circles before.”

“Not yet. I am working on my dissertation, though,” you said.

Tony suddenly perked up and seemed interested in the conversation. “What’s your field of study?” he asked.

“Psychology, specifically specializing in military and health psych.”

“I remember where I’ve seen your name now,” Bruce said, “your Master’s thesis was on PTSD, and how the severity of symptomology affects the patient’s ability to form and establish lasting, meaningful relationships. I read it, very interesting stuff. Is your dissertation along the same lines?”

“Sort of, it’s an in-depth study on the regulating effects of exercise on the severity of PTSD symptoms.”

Bruce questioned you in-depth about your dissertation and even Tony had a few questions. You had already decided that Dr. Banner was brilliant, and despite yourself you were coming to the same conclusion about Tony Stark. You tried to avoid eye contact with Steve, who was just watching you during the conversation with obvious concern in his eyes. Eventually, Bruce and Tony said their farewells and headed off to do whatever it was they did with their days. The silence between you and Steve was awkward, but not unlivable. Steve opened and closed his mouth a few times before finally coming up with something to say.

“Listen,” he spoke carefully, like he wasn’t sure it was a good idea to say the words, “if you sleep better in the barracks, I’d be happy to help you move your things up there. There’s plenty of room.”

You shook your head. “I’ll probably keep sleeping in the barracks, but I think I’d like to keep the suite, too.” He nodded, but he still looked concerned. You didn’t understand why he would be so worried about you; you had only met a day ago. “Besides, I just figured out how to work the shower in there, and it’s quite possibly the most amazing thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Steve laughed, and it was musical. You were pretty certain you could listen to that sound all day. Where the hell had that thought come from?

“Okay. Well, you let me know if you change your mind.”

“Uh… yeah, sure thing,” you replied, “and, uh… thanks. For last night, I mean. And for not being weird about it.”

“You’re welcome. And like I said last night, if you decide you want to talk about it, you let me know.”

“Right now, I’d just like to know how the hell I can get out of this building,” you said.

“Come on, I’ll show you a way out,” Steve said, smiling as he stood and held a hand out to you.

You took it and he led you down a flight of stairs and through a door that led to a small garden. The sun beat down on your face as soon as you stepped out, and for a few moments you just basked in its warmth. You took a few steps away from the door and pulled a pack of Marlboros out of your pocket. As you put one to your lips and lit it, you saw Steve looking at you with raised eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” you said derisively.

“Like what?” He looked taken aback by your tone.

“Like you ain’t ever smoked a damn cigarette in your life.” Steve looked at you sheepishly. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. After all, you were a soldier, in a war zone. And it was before they figured out smoking was bad for you.”

“Fair enough,” he said, raising his hands in surrender. They stood basking in the sunlight, in comfortable silence as you smoked your cigarette. “So, what do you do besides smoke and research?”

“I work at a tavern across town,” you replied, “I actually have to work tonight.” You looked up at him as you put the cigarette out and you were once again awed by the sheer beauty of the man standing before you.

Steve wasn’t wearing his Captain America uniform today, just a pair of khakis and a too tight white t-shirt that you were pretty sure would be torn to shreds if he flexed too hard. The sun glinted off his thick blonde hair that was combed mostly to one side in a style that would have looked dated on anyone else. And his face, with a square jaw and high cheekbones, was probably the most perfect thing you’d ever seen. You felt a sudden shadow of guilt at your attraction to him.

“Well,” Steve said, unaware of your inner conflict, “if you have time before you have to leave, I can give you a tour of the rest of the tower.” He held out his arm for you, offering himself as an escort.

“I think I’d like that,” you said, smiling up at him as you took his arm and he led you back into the tower.


	4. Chapter 4

As the days turned to weeks in Avengers tower, you got to know everyone a little better. You hadn’t planned on staying for so long, but upon inspection, Tony decided your apartment building was not up to snuff, and so decided to renovate the entire thing.

You settled into a routine. You worked out with Clint almost every morning. Your conversations with him were mostly been filled with talk about his best friend, a girl called Natasha, who had apparently been on one mission or another since you came to the tower. Clint thought you two would get along quite well, and you pieced together that this must be the Nat that told Steve to read The Hunger Games. One morning, Clint met you with a lovely redhead wearing black leggings and a gray tank top in tow.

“Y/N,” he said, “this is Natasha Romanoff, also known as the Black Widow.” You weren’t sure why he insisted on introducing people with their code names, but you rolled with it.

“Clint has told me a lot about you.” The look Nat shot over to Clint could have frozen the tropics. “And Steve told me that you are the one who told him to read The Hunger Games.”

“Yes. I told him to add it to his list,” Nat said, looking back at you and smiling. It was somehow beautiful and lethal at the same time. “I hear you lift almost as much as I do.”

“Yeah, I guess. Barton seemed pretty impressed.” Nat laughed at this.

“Can you fight?”

“Um, no. Violence isn’t really my thing.”

“Well, take it from me, you may want to learn if you are spending time here. If something happens, you should be able to defend yourself. We can’t babysit you and fight at the same time.”

“I will keep that in mind,” you said, a little startled by the woman’s tone. She was very to the point, and didn’t sugar coat. You immediately decided that you liked her. The three of you went about your morning workouts mostly in silence.

* * *

Steve was on his cot reading a book when you got back to the small barracks after a shower. He had woken you from your terrible nightmares and held you as you sobbed every night since you started sleeping in the barracks. When he smiled at you, your stomach flip-flopped. Everything, conversation, crying into his chest, being in his arms, seemed so natural. It was unnerving, and the last time you felt so immediately comfortable with a man, it had been John. And this could never be what you had with John. Subconsciously, you rubbed a finger along the edge of the ring dangling from the chain around your neck.

“Hey,” Steve said, closing his book.

“Hey,” you replied, smiling at him and dropping the hand to your side. You hoped he hadn’t seen, but knew not much seemed to escape his notice. “Don’t get up on account of me.”

“Actually, I was waiting for you. I wanted to know if you’d like to go out somewhere for lunch today.” You stared at him for a moment. Something in his eyes hinted that this was more than just a friendly gesture, but that had to be your imagination.

“Yeah. Lunch sounds good,” you replied. “I’m starved. But nowhere fancy or expensive. I don’t have much cash to spare.”

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I’ll buy.” His mouth rose into a wry half-smile. “Besides, I’m really more of a hot dog stand guy myself.” You nodded and slipped on a pair of old tennis shoes before heading out the door.

You carried on a pleasant, but mostly meaningless conversation as the two of you walked through the city to what Steve claimed was the “best hot dog stand this side of Coney Island.” He ordered for both of you and you found a bench in Central Park to sit and enjoy your lunch.

“Bucky and I used to come here all the time when we were kids,” Steve said as you ate. “It’s still one of my favorite places in the city.”

“What did you guys do when you were here? I mean, this is only like the second time I’ve been.”

“Mostly we would just watch people. We used to play this stupid game where we would watch two people talking and make up the conversation they were having. Bucky always made it inappropriate. It was fun. Sometimes we would just lay out in the grass or sit under the trees. Buck would talk about whatever girl he was after and I would draw landscapes.”

You looked at him thoughtfully chewing on a bite of her hot dog. You could tell that even though he was talking about happy memories, it hurt Steve to talk about Bucky and you empathized. You knew what it was like to lose people, and how much it could hurt to talk about the past. You instinctively reached over and squeezed his hand. He held your hand tightly and smiled a sad smile that broke your heart and gave you butterflies all at once. You immediately withdrew her hand, trying to ignore the disappointment you felt at the smile falling from Steve’s face.

“Bucky used to have nightmares like you do,” he said, softly and without looking at you. “After we rescued him from Hydra, I remember waking him up in the middle of the night and holding him while he cried. He would tell about the nightmares. He said it was like every night he was reliving the things they had done to him.”

“That sounds like a PTSD flashback,” you said clinically.  You sounded detached and unemotional; professional. It wasn’t intentional; it was just your education taking over. “It’s not unexpected, considering all that he had been through.” Steve had told you a few stories about Bucky, and the things they had seen and done in the war.

“Well, we didn’t have a name for it back then, but I guess so.”

“What about you, Steve?”

“After Bucky died, I had nightmares every night. I had a hard time keeping my thoughts together. I just threw myself into the mission. That’s how I ended up on ice.”

“Did they ever go away?”

“After they thawed me out, I had them less often. I still have them sometimes.”

“Oh.” Your voice sounded small. You felt like you were never going to escape the nightmares.

“I just wanted you to know that you aren’t alone. I promise that I will never push you to tell me anything you don’t want to, but I will be here to listen if you decide you want to talk about it.”

You didn’t answer. The two of you finished your lunch in a silence that was both awkward and comfortable and headed back to the tower.

* * *

“You look like a hooker,” Tony snarked at you over his ever-present coffee mug. He was referring to your uniform, which consisted of a too tight black t-shirt that showed just a bit too much cleavage, a black and red plaid mini-skirt, and white knee high socks. Honestly, you agreed with him, but he didn’t need to know that.

“If I were a hooker, I’d have bought my own damned apartment building,” you said. Tony laughed. “Listen, my truck won’t start. I need a ride to work.”

“Why don’t you ask your star-spangled boy toy?” Tony smiled suggestively. “I’m sure he’d be happy to ride you on his bike… I mean, give you a ride to work.” You could feel a blush burning its way up you face and your usually quick wit failed you.

“I… uh… I don’t like motorcycles,” you said finally. “Can you stop being an asshat for a few minutes and take me to work, please?”

“You are awfully snarky for someone who needs my help.”

You rolled your eyes dramatically. “Get off your pedestal, Tony. It’s your fault I need your damn help in the first place.”

“Fair point,” he sighed. “Well, come on then.”

You followed him down to one of his huge garages, which held more cars than you cared to count. There were classic cars, super cars, and several cars that you had never seen before. You saw something out of the corner of your eye and stopped dead in your tracks.

“Is that what I think it is?” you asked quietly, running your fingers across the trunk lid. Tony looked at you and scowled.

“Hey, keep your dirty fingers off of Baby!” He said, walking over and using a sleeve to buff your fingerprints off of the black ’67 Impala.

“It is what I think it is!” you exclaimed like a giddy school girl. “Tony Stark, why do you have a replica of the Winchesters’ car?”

“It’s not a replica,” he said, sounding mortally offended by the suggestion. “It’s the real deal. I bought straight off of the set.”

“You mean to say that Jensen freaking Ackles has actually been in this car?” Tony just nodded, looking rather proud of himself. “Tony, I think we may have just become best friends. What else are you a closet fanboy about?” He just rolled his eyes.

“Come on, or you will be late.” He started walking away and you had no choice but to follow. You chatted his ear off, discovering that he loved all the same shows you did. You couldn’t believe you hadn’t figured it out sooner.

“Wait a minute,” you said, abruptly. “You are a billionaire and a brilliant scientist, who is working with Bruce Banner, another brilliant scientist. How the hell do you not have your own TARDIS?”

“It’s the bigger on the inside technology that makes it tricky. Also, Pepper said no.”

“What did you blow up?”

“Nothing. I may or may not half sucked half of one of my labs into an alternate dimension.”

“Son of a bitch. You are a hardcore fan boy!”

“Whatever. Listen, since we are supposedly best friends now, I should probably tell you something.” Tony had gotten very serious, very quickly. Given that you had never seen him be serious about anything, it made you nervous.

“Um, okay.”

“I do extensive background checks on everyone who comes into the tower. It is exceptionally comprehensive, especially for people who are in the tower for any extended period of time.” The blood drained from your face. Tony must know everything about you.

“So you know about…” you trailed off.

“I know about the accident. I won’t tell anyone. But for the record, Steve really seems to care about you. And if anyone would understand, its him. You should tell him about it.”

“I’ll… uh… think about it.” Suddenly, you didn’t really want to talk to Tony anymore. You were grateful when the car rolled to a stop in front of the bar. “Thanks for the ride,” you said tightly as you got out and slammed the door.

* * *

You were mixing drinks Dr. Banner walked in, hand in hand with Nat. He waved at you and led Nat over to the bar.  You hadn’t known they were together. You thought that Nat and Clint had a thing, but now that you saw Bruce and Nat together, you doubted it.

“What are we drinking?” You asked as they sat down. You brought the two beers that they ordered and went about doing you other duties and watching them as they shared conversation on what appeared to be a date night. It was still surprising. Nat looked at Bruce like he was the end and beginning of the world all at once. You felt a brief surge of jealousy that was quickly overcome by an overwhelming feeling of grief and guilt, remembering all too clearly how it felt for someone to look at you like that, and how it felt to look at someone else that way. Bruce stepped away, and Nat waved you over.

“Have you thought about what I said earlier?” she asked.

“About learning to fight?” you questioned. She nodded and you just shook her head. “I told you, Nat. Violence is not my thing. Fighting is not something I have ever been interested in learning.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having the skills to defend yourself if it becomes necessary. Besides, it’s something you can add into your workouts to mix them up, and hitting stuff if great for stress relief.”

“Fair enough,” you said, looking Nat’s face over thoughtfully, and then sighed. “Alright, fine. I will try it, but I am free to back out at any time.”

“That sounds like a deal I can live with. Meet me in the studio at 5 AM tomorrow. We’ll start with the basics.”

You nodded her agreement. “So, you and Dr. Banner, huh?” Nat just smiled, her eyes lighting up. “You guys may be the most unexpected couple I’ve ever seen.”

“That’s only because you haven’t seen the dysfunction that is Tony and Pepper.”

“She must be one hell of a woman to put up with all of Tony’s bullshit.”

Nat laughed, then she leaned in close to you, like she was going to tell you a secret.

“So, what’s up with you and Rogers?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you basically share a room, and you seem to spend all of your free time together.”

“Oh,” you replied nervously. You had feelings that you, of course, denied having, even to yourself, but that was all. “Nothing’s up, we’re just friends.”

Nat looked at you with tangible skepticism.

“You’re joking right? I mean, you have to be able to see the way he looks at you.”

You were surprised. You assumed Nat was asking because it was somehow obvious that you had feelings for Steve. The idea that he was interested in you was ludicrous. The two of you were complete opposites. He was so good, and you? Well, you just weren’t.

“I really have no idea what you are talking about.”

“Well, then you are as blind as Barton is deaf. I’ve known Cap for quite a while now, and the only other person I’ve ever seen him look at the way he looks at you is Peggy. He’s totally into you.”

“You know, you’re the second person today to say something like that to me.”

“Maybe you should take the hint,” Bruce said, sitting down next to Nat and sliding an arm around her waist. You rolled your eyes and refilled their drinks.


	5. Chapter 5

“Y/N!” Steve yelled, shaking you. He kept yelling your name and to wake you until your eyes finally opened. He held you to his chest and you clung to him like your life depended on it. You stayed like that for a long while, Steve stroking your hair and whispering that he was there now and everything would be okay.

When your sobs finally subsided, you looked up and studied Steve’s face, trying to see the look Nat had been talking about earlier. You didn’t see it, but you felt he did care for you in some way as he gently thumbed the tears from your cheeks. You had a sudden and fierce to desire to kiss him, but instead you pushed him away, breaking his grip on you and sitting cross-legged on the cot in front of him.

“Why do you do this?” you asked. “I mean, why do you wake me when I have nightmares and hold me while I cry?” Steve’s eyebrows shot up slightly like he was surprised by the question. He reached over and took one of your hands in his.

“I care about you, Y/N,” he said, looking into your eyes. “More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. And I may not know what happened to you, but I know that it was bad. No one should have to deal with things like that alone.”

“We barely know each other. Why do you care so much?”

“Well, I honestly don’t know. I think it started in your apartment. When you were angry and you were yelling at Tony like he was a kid who threw a baseball through your kitchen window.” You smiled a little. “And you don’t take any crap from anyone. You are intelligent, beautiful, strong-willed. Basically all the things I like in people.”

“You must be talking about someone else,” you muttered. “If I were strong like you say I am, I wouldn’t be having these damn nightmares still. It’s been two years.” Steve didn’t say anything, as he was waited for her to continue like he was afraid if he said something, you might change your mind. You looked at him thoughtfully and then lay back on the bed, your decision made. “Lay down next to me,” you said. “If you really care about me that much, I am going to try and tell you about my nightmares… about what happened to me.” He hesitated momentarily, but complied and waited silently for you to start. You reached into her t-shirt, pulling out the chain your wedding band dangled from.

“I used to be married,” you began, holding up the ring so that Steve could see it in the dim light of the barracks. “His name was John. We were high school sweethearts, married as soon as we turned eighteen. We hadn’t even graduated yet. When I was twenty-one, my son was born. He looked just like his father, and we named him Jason Daniel, after our fathers. He was the happiest little baby, almost never cried.” You paused for a moment. You knew you were rambling but you had to tell the story from the beginning.

“Two years later, we had a daughter, Morgan. I remember telling John that I had been cheated because both of the kids looked like him. She was our little accident, completely unplanned. She completed our little family. We were happy. I mean, life wasn’t perfect and we always struggled with money. But we loved each other, John and I, and we loved our babies, so no matter how much we struggled or what arguments we got into, we were still happy.”

You paused again, feeling tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as you took several deep breaths.

“You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to,” Steve said, as you tried to compose yourself enough to continue, “Or if you aren’t ready to.” Steve cupped your face in one hand, and you tried to smile, but couldn’t manage it.

“We were on the way home from one of Jason’s soccer games one Saturday. He was four and Morgan had just turned two. I was driving and John was in the passenger seat.”

_“Mama, can we get ice cream?” Jason asked from the back seat._

_“Ithe cweam, ithe cweam!” Morgan echoed._

_You looked over at John and shared a smile. “Only if you are on your very best behavior.” Even John joined in the chorus of ‘yays.’ The children’s best behavior didn’t last for very long at all, and soon they were fighting over some toy or another in the back seat. John sighed and pulled out his phone, searching for a video or something that would keep the kids entertained, at least for a few minutes. You kept one hand on the wheel and turned to look back at the kids. You didn’t see the light turn red._

_Just as you opened her mouth to tell the kids to keep their hands to themselves, you heard the blaring horn and screeching tires. You whipped you head around just in time to see the looming grill of a Peterbilt as it slammed into the passenger side of your car. The impact of the truck made the car slide a few feet and then roll once, twice and a third time, finally coming to rest on its wheels. You could here Jason screaming in the back seat, but John and Morgan were both conspicuously silent._

_You couldn’t move, couldn’t think straight. You must have hit your head on something while the car was rolling because you couldn’t see straight either. You blinked a few times to clear your vision, and tried to turn to check on the kids, but something pinned you in place. You looked down and saw a large metal slice of your door had bent in and broken during the roll and was lodged in your left side. Even as you looked at the injury, you thought how strange it was that it didn’t seem to hurt. You turned your head slowly to look over at John in the passenger seat, a strangled cry falling from your lips when you saw him, still and covered in blood, his head and part of his face crushed inward and his neck bent at an unnatural angle. Somewhere inside, you knew he was gone, but your mind shut off and refused to process the information._

_Jason had stopped screaming, but you still heard the shallow cries emanating from the back seat. You started to reach for the rear view mirror, but it had been knocked off in the crash._

_“Jason?” you croaked, barely able to make your voice work, “Morgan? Are you alright?”_

_“I’m bleeding everywhere,” James cried. You almost couldn’t make out the words. It was at that moment that you realized you hadn’t heard a sound from Morgan. A surge of panicked adrenaline raced through your veins, and you cried out sharply as you turned your body, causing the metal shard and pain to rip even further through the left side of your body. You could feel the metal shift deeper into your midsection as you turned, but you didn’t care. As you looked back, you saw Morgan was just sitting there. If it hadn’t been for the massive amount of blood staining your baby girl’s yellow dress, you would have thought she was asleep. There was so much blood that you couldn’t tell where the fatal injury was. You stifled another cry as tears poured from your eyes._

_You looked over at Jason, and saw that he was severely injured as well. His cries were fading and his head lolled as he began to lose consciousness. You whispered to him that everything was going to be okay as you looked him over as best she could. You knew the words were a lie as soon as they left your lips. He had been impaled by some flying shard and was bleeding so profusely you couldn’t believe so much blood could come from someone so small. You tried to comfort him in what you knew to be his final moments and tears streamed from your eyes. You grew colder. The blood loss was finally getting to you, and everything faded to black._

“The next thing I knew, I was waking up in a recovery room in the hospital where doctors and police told me that I had been involved in an accident. The cop told me that the driver of the truck escaped with some minor injuries, but that I was the only one in my car to survive,” you finished, voice thick with tears and shaking. Steve lay on his back and had pulled you to him so your head rested on his chest and your tears soaked his shirt. You didn’t look at him; couldn’t bear to look into his eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. There was nothing else for him to say. Nothing would make the pain of your loss any less, and nothing that would assuage the guilt.

“I was in the hospital for about a month. They said if I had stayed still I would have been fine, but when I turned the metal nicked an artery. They said I was lucky to be alive.”

“But you don’t feel that way.”

“What mother is lucky to outlive her children? It was my fault. Every day I wish that I had died in that car. Instead, I have to live for the rest of my life knowing that my family is dead because of me.” Steve didn’t know how to respond to that, so he stayed silent and held you more tightly, stroking your hair. “I don’t deserve to be happy. I had the life that everyone dreams of having, and I ruined it. That’s why I have been alone since it happened. I don’t deserve to be loved or to love another person.”

“Everyone deserves to be loved, babydoll,” Steve said quietly. “Especially someone who has been through what you have.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve comes to terms with what you've shared with him, and his feelings for you

Steve’s POV        

Steve woke expecting you to be cradled against him and was overwhelmingly disappointed when there was only empty space beside him. He sighed and stared up at the ceiling, thinking back to what you told him the night before. How had you survived? Bucky’s death had nearly broken him. You endured something so much worse and came out swinging. He was certain he would never have made it. Losing your children was unthinkable; spending your life blaming yourself was even more so.

Steve understood that feeling all too well, and on such a deep level it made him physically uncomfortable. He still blamed himself about Bucky, but at least he no longer felt the utter self-loathing that was the immediate consequence of the demise of his best friend. What good was being a damned super soldier if he couldn’t even save his best friend? He unclenched fists that he hadn’t intended to make. 

Bucky’s death rested squarely on his shoulders. He told no one about these feelings, not even Peggy. He was afraid that she would blame him as much as he blamed himself. He couldn’t handle that. He knew exactly how hard it must have been for you to tell him about the accident.

Steve sighed again as he rolled out of the bed, still thinking of you. You thought yourself broken, he knew, but to him you were a bold, beautiful, brash diamond that had formed under the intense pressure of personal tragedy. He’d like you from the moment you met. Apparently firecracker was his type. His feelings had only grown since then, and he was beginning to suspect that if he wasn’t careful he’d be in love. 

Steve could fall pretty fast, and seeing it coming terrified him. The last time he felt this way, it was Peggy. That had’t turned out well for either of them. It didn’t matter, really. He couldn’t seem to stop the headlong tumble, so instead of fighting it, he just accepted it. 

Steve had to talk to someone, and he found himself pushing open the door to one of Tony’s labs. Strange choice, given how difficult their relationship was at times, but he had a gut feeling that Tony knew about your past. Tony sometimes seemed to know everything about everyone. He probably knew more about the accident than you did.

Tony was, as usual, consumed by whatever project he was working on. He was leaning over the workbench, hyper-focused on what looked like some kind of computer chip, and he didn’t notice Steve’s entrance.  

“Steve!” a voice exclaimed. He turned as a girl with thick-rimmed glasses and long, dark, curly hair nearly bowled him over with a hug.

“Darcy!” he said, smiling and hugging her with one arm. “When did you get back, kid?”

“Couple of hours ago. Pepper put me straight to work babysitting Tony.” Tony muttered something about not needing a babysitter without taking his eyes way from his work. “I guess she thinks that since I’ve managed to keep Jane alive that I can do the same for Tony.”

“Hey, how about I take over babysitting for a while so you can unpack and settle in a bit?”

“Yes, sir, Captain Rogers, sir,” Darcy replied, standing at attention and saluting sharply before winking at him. On her way out the door, she said, “we have a ton to catch up on, Steve. I expect mini-golf. Or bowling, that would be fun, too.”

Tony continued tinkering as Steve made sure the door was closed behind him and sat in Darcy’s now empty chair.

“What’s going on?” he said, without looking up at Steve.

“Y/N told me about the accident,” Steve said softly. Tony look across the workbench at him with no surprise showing on his face.

“Okay,” he said, “that doesn’t tell me why you’re here.”

“I figure she doesn’t want everyone knowing about it,” Steve said, “and I assumed that you already knew.”

“And? What exactly is it you want to talk about?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. I didn’t really think this through. I just had to talk to someone.” Steve shifted in the chair, and Tony just nodded and went back to work.

“What’s your take?”

“I don’t know how she pulled through it, Tony. I don’t think I would have survived that kind of emotional trauma.”

“Ah, come on, Cap. You deal with that kind of emotional trauma everyday. We all do.”

“It’s not the same. We have all lost people. People have died because of us, or because of who we are. It’s not the same as losing your kids.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. What do you think about the accident?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you think it was her fault?” 

Steve thought about this for a long moment. Did he? You definitely did and he understood why.

“No. It was just an accident. It doesn’t really matter if I don’t think it was her fault, does it? She thinks it was her fault. And I know from experience that there is nothing that anyone can say that will change that.”

“That’s true. But, if anyone could change her mind, it’s you.”

“What makes you say that?” Steve watched as Tony set his tools down and looked up to meet his eyes.

“Is that a real question?” Tony stared for a moment, waiting for an answer. When Steve didn’t give him one, he said, “well, the serum really didn’t do much for you in the brain department.”

“That clears everything up, Tony, thank you so much.” Steve rolled his eyes.

“You’ve got to know how Y/N feels about you, especially for her to tell you about her family.”

“I understand how difficult that must have been for Y/N, but I don’t think she feels the way you are implying.”

“Wow, you really are thick-skulled. Let me ask you this, how do you feel about her?”

“I thought she was beautiful when I saw her the first time, especially after she mouthed off to you the way she did. As I got to know her a little better, I found out she is smart and full of life. She doesn’t care what people think of her, and she won’t just lay down and let anyone walk all over her.” He paused, and thought for a moment before continuing. “She’s extraordinary, Tony. Instead of turning to booze, she took her personal experience and decided to try and use it to help other people. How could anyone not find that incredible?”

Tony looked at him thoughtfully. “The accident wasn’t her fault. The truck driver fell asleep while he was driving, and according to the statement he gave to the police, he woke up just in time to see the car in the intersection fifty yards in front of him.”

Steve knew that you would still blame yourself, even if you knew about the driver, but it didn’t stop him from wondering if you had that information.

“That doesn’t change anything.”

“I know.”

“I think I’m falling in love with her,” Steve said, “I can’t stop thinking about her. I want to help her. I want to make her happy.”

“Tell her you want to help with her research,” Tony said. “It’s the most important thing in her life right now.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, so I've been away for quite some time and I am so so sorry!! I will try to get everything updated and I won't drop off the face of the planet anymore either!!


End file.
